“After all this,” said Taren, “that sounds pleasant.”
March nodded, stooped, and picked up two small objects that looked like bluish-green beetles.
“First, though,” he said, “we ought to find the rest of the quantum inducers.”
Taren laughed a little. “The most dangerous objects in Calaskar and they almost end up as stones lying in an abandoned park.”
They set to work.
Chapter 10: Scars
Bishop returned with the Tiger the next day, but it was another four days before March could depart Rustbelt Station with Taren.
For one thing, finding all the quantum inducers took the better part of a day. The explosion that had killed Simon Lorre had also flung the quantum inducers in all directions through the dome. After four hours, March and Taren had found seventeen of the inducers, but they dared not leave a single one behind.
In the end, March found Lorre’s ship, which as he predicted had been docked at the dome’s airlock. From the ship’s engine room, he took a dark energy detector, which he used to locate the remaining three inducers. He also took the opportunity to download the contents of the ship’s computer, which he would hand over to the Silent Order with the relics. No doubt Lorre had been careful not to leave any useful intelligence on the ship’s computer.
But Lorre had not been infallible.
His death proved that.
Fortunately, March also found the computer Lorre had used to control the infiltrator drones, and he shut down their nanotech remotely before they could rampage through the station and kill innocent people.
Bishop arrived with the Tiger the next day, and once March and Taren had filled him in, the work of the cleanup began. March had left twenty corpses in the ore complex, to say nothing of Dr. Orson’s and Lorre’s corpses. Heitz was pleased that Veldt was dead, and participated in creating the cover story with glee. In the end, the official story was that the Graywolves had kidnapped Dr. Orson and intended to ransom him back to the University of Calaskar. The mercenaries had fallen out with each other and killed each other in the resultant firefight, during which Dr. Orson was also tragically killed.
On the night of the third day after his return, March and Taren sat in Bishop’s office as he opened a trio of beers.
“I don’t usually drink,” said Taren, accepting the bottle of green glass, “but after the last several days. I’ll break my rule.”
“You two did well,” said Bishop, taking a drink of his own beer. “You’ll talk to Censor yourselves, of course, but I need to write up my own report. I have to say this operation was an unqualified success. Twenty quantum inducers and an unknown alien artifact kept from the Machinists. And Simon Lorre dead! That man has been a troublemaker since…”
Taren offered him a sad smile. “I know when.”
“Well,” said Bishop, lifting his bottle. “To the memory of Mr. Taren, then. May he rest in God’s arms, along with all of Lorre’s other victims.”
They clinked bottles and drank, and then spoke of trivialities for the next hour.
“I think,” said Taren, getting to her feet, “that I’m going to bed.” She rose and smiled. “Captain March wants us to leave at 05:00 tomorrow, so I need my sleep.”
“Good night, Dr. Taren,” said March.
She smiled at him. “Good night, Captain March.”
Taren left the office, and March watched her go.
He took another drink of his beer and saw Bishop staring at him.
“Jack,” said Bishop.
“What?” said March.
“You aren’t going to follow her?” said Bishop, incredulous.
“Why would I do that?” said March, though he knew what Bishop meant.
And the idea had appeal. Sometimes March’s mind jumped back to his memory of Taren in her exercise clothes, or of her smile flashing across her lips as her gray eyes glinted.
“I guarantee,” said Bishop, “that for the next hour or two, that young lady is going to be lying on her bed waiting for you to knock.”
“I know,” said March. “That’s not a good idea.”
Bishop blinked at him a few times.
“Jack,” he said. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
There was no malice in it, no contempt, just concern.
March stared into his beer. “What do you think is wrong with me?”
“I’ve known you for a long time now,” said Bishop. “We’ve helped each other out on half a hundred operations. I’d like to think of you as a friend.”
“You are,” said March. “A good man, and a good friend.”
“But in all that time, I don’t think you’ve ever had a woman in your life,” said Bishop.
“It’s not a good idea,” said March. “I have my duty.”
“But is duty all you want?” said Bishop.
March said nothing. He didn’t know how to articulate the war raging inside his head. This kind of discussion was not his strength.
“I see the way she looks at you,” said Bishop. “Hell, I see the way you look at her. And you’re not a man to do things casually, I know that. But…I think you two are suited to each other. I think you both have something the other needs.”
“Are you a bartender or a therapist?” said March.
Bishop grinned. “Bartenders make for the best therapists in the world.”
“And haven’t you been divorced twice?” said March.
Bishop tipped his bottle, conceding the point. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”
March said nothing for a while.
“Maybe,” he said, “but I still have my duty.”
###
At 05:00 the next day, March piloted the Tiger away from Rustbelt Station and started the ship on the first of its many hyperjumps to Antioch Station. The ship’s only cargo was the relics from Xenostas, and its only passenger was Dr. Adelaide Taren. It would take three and a half days and fifteen hyperspace jumps to reach Antioch Station. March had thought about dropping Taren off at Antioch Station and then reporting to Censor, but no doubt Censor would insist that he take Taren and the relics all the way to Calaskar itself. That would add another forty-five hyperjumps and nine days to the trip.
Right now, March and Taren were the only people on the Tiger.
Truth be told, while in hyperspace, they were the only people for dozens of light years in any direction.
They were almost as alone as two people could be.
He was as aware of that fact as he had been of anything in his life.
March wasn’t sure why it dominated his thoughts as it did. Perhaps he only imagined things. He was attracted to Taren, and he knew that clouded his thinking. Perhaps Bishop had imagined things as well. He was a good branch chief, but he was something of a romantic.
But if they had not imagined things…
March thought over what he would say to Taren, how he would lessen the sting of the blow. Maybe it would be unnecessary. If she waited for him to make the first move, they would reach Calaskar, go their separate ways, and that would be that. If she approached him, he would decline, citing the dangers of his duties, and that would also be that. She would be disappointed, maybe even hurt, but once she returned to Calaskar and her life, she would forget about him.
That would be for the best.
The thought bothered March more than he thought it would.
He spent the day in the flight cabin and the engine room, performing diagnostics and doing routine maintenance on the ship. The Tiger was in good shape. The resonator coil functioned, the hyperdrive was operating at acceptable efficiency, and the dark matter reaction chamber he had bought on Monastery Station had not shown any faults.
The relics were secured in the strong room in the cargo hold.
March had just started on a diagnostic of the railgun’s accelerator coils when the speakers chimed.
“Captain March,” said Vigil. “Dr. Taren wishes to inform you that dinner is ready in the galley, and she requests
that you join her.”
March hesitated, wondering if he should make up an excuse. No, best to get this over with. “Tell Dr. Taren I will join her shortly.”
He left the engine room, walked down the dorsal corridor, and stepped into the galley. He had been half-afraid that Taren would launch some sort of elaborate seduction, with candles and soft music, and that she would have changed into something alluring. To his relief, nothing of the sort had happened. She had made them a high-protein dinner with cups of coffee, exactly what he would have preferred to have eaten, and she was wearing cargo trousers, a T-shirt, and her brown leather jacket.
All of which did look good on her, admittedly.
She was standing by the table, and turned and smiled as he stepped into the galley. “Thought you might be hungry since you were working all day.”
“I didn’t do anything too strenuous,” said March, rolling his shoulders. “Still healing from the stab wounds. I just pressed buttons all day.”
“Good,” said Taren. “Dinner is served. Well, as much of a dinner as one can have in hyperspace, anyway.”
“Thank you, Dr. Taren,” said March.
Taren laughed. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. After you pulled me out of the way of a lift car, I don’t think you have to call me Dr. Taren.”
He smiled at that. “Professor Taren, then.”
“How about Adelaide?” she said. “It is my name.”
“All right. Adelaide, then,” said March. “But you’ll have to call me Jack. It’s short. Shouldn’t be too much of a challenge.”
“All right. Jack, then.” Adelaide held out her hand. “I’m Adelaide, and I’m very pleased to meet you, Jack.”
He shook her hand. “It’s more pleasant than the first time we met. No one’s shot at us for days.”
“Yes,” said Adelaide. “I will try to enjoy that while it lasts.”
He started to release her hand, but her fingers lingered on his. Her skin felt warm against his, very warm.
“Jack,” said Adelaide. Her voice had gotten quieter. “I’m glad I met you.”
“Thank you,” said March, “but it was my mission.”
Adelaide shook her head. A stray bit of hair fell across her cheek, and she pushed it away. “I know. I’ve had my life saved before. You have, too, I’ll bet.” March nodded. “But not…but not by someone like you.” She stepped closer, taking his right hand in her left. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
He tried to think of something to say to that, but no answer came. His throat had gone dry.
She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips felt like fire against his skin. Adelaide stepped back and gazed at him, and the increasingly small part of March’s mind that was still functioning clinically noted the signs of arousal – her pupils had dilated, her face had flushed, her breathing was coming faster, the pulse in her neck coming quicker.
He ought to put a stop to this, now. Right now. It had gone too far already. He…
She leaned up again and kissed him on the mouth, and his self-control wavered. He coiled his right arm around her back and drew her against him, kissing her harder. Adelaide moaned a little, and her tongue slipped between his lips, and…
Sanity reasserted itself. He had a mission. He was who he was, what the Machinists and life had made of him, and nothing could ever change that.
He pushed her back, gently. “No. No…we can’t.”
She blinked up at him, hurt going over her expression, and then…calm.
Almost like she had been expecting him to do just that.
“Why not?” said Adelaide. “You’re a brave man, Jack, and a good one. I wasn’t lying when I said hadn’t met anyone like you.”
“And you’re a brave woman, Adelaide,” said March, his voice hoarse. “And a beautiful one. But…we can’t do this. We’re both part of the Silent Order, and…”
She stepped back and raised one hand.
“I know what you’re going to say,” said Adelaide. “You’re going to tell me that you’re an Alpha Operative of the Silent Order. You have your duties, your missions, and that’s that. You can’t have distractions from them. Even if you weren’t an Alpha Operative, you would still be a privateer captain, and I’m an archaeologist. The careers aren’t entirely compatible.”
“Yes,” said March, surprised. She had divined his reasons so accurately that it was uncanny.
“Those are good reasons, Jack,” said Adelaide. “I understand them. I think you’ve used them before. But they’re not true.”
March frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I know the real reason you’re hesitating,” said Adelaide. “I teased you for having a girl in every port, but I know you don’t, and I know the real reason why.”
“I don’t understand.”
She took a deep breath as if gathering her courage. “I’ll show you why.”
Adelaide reached for her belt and started undoing it.
“Wait,” said March, grabbing her forearm. “Don’t.”
Adelaide grinned. “What, you think I’m going to strip off, and you’ll be overcome with desire? I’m self-confident, but not that confident.” Her smiled faded. “No. This is serious. I want…I want to tell you something important. I want you to understand.”
March hesitated, released her arm, and nodded.
Adelaide took one more deep breath. She looked nervous, almost frightened. Then she undid her belt, lowered her trousers to her knees, and rolled her shirt up to the base of her chest.
His first thought was that she looked good. Really, really good. His self-control was already wavering, and this did not help. If the ship exploded just now, he wouldn’t have noticed.
Then he saw the scar.
He had glimpsed it earlier when she had still been wearing her exercise shorts. The scar was almost as wide as two of his fingers. It started on her upper right thigh and climbed up to her hip. Then it emerged from the waistband of her underwear, and slashed diagonally across her stomach and stopped just below her left breast.
Understanding started to come to him.
“The bombing,” he said.
Adelaide nodded. “Do you ever think about what modern medical technology would have seemed like to our ancestors on primeval Earth? If nothing kills us first, you and I will probably live to a hundred and fifty or a hundred and sixty with most of our faculties intact. Things that would have been lethal in ancient times are cured with nanotech or genetically engineered drugs.” She took a deep breath, which made both her stomach and her chest do interesting things. “But there are some things medical science can’t fix…and this is one of them.”
“You were in a car,” said March. “It would have a high-density capacitor to power the engine. And when the bomb went off…”
“A shard of capacitor alloy did this and lodged in my abdomen,” said Adelaide. She offered a sad smile. “Medical science can fix a lot of things, but it can’t fix the local cellular poisoning caused by high-density capacitator alloy. I lost the baby, and I’m not going to have another one.”
“I’m sorry,” said March.
“Don’t be,” said Adelaide with a shake of her head. “I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me.”
“Why, then?” said March.
The gray eyes met his.
“I’m telling you this,” said Adelaide, “so you understand the real reason why you’re pushing me away. The real reason you’ve pushed away every woman who ever tried to get close to you.”
“Then what is it?” said March.
“Because,” said Adelaide, “you can’t bear for anyone to see your scars and to be reminded of what you were.” She took a deep breath. “Just like I can’t.”
March said nothing.
“I’m just like you,” she said. “I didn’t want to be what I am now. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’ve had a good life. I still have a good life, thanks to you. I’ve traveled a lot of places,
seen a lot of amazing things, and I’ve made a lot of money. But it isn’t what I set out to be. I was going to be Duncan’s wife. I would help him with his work, help my dad in his shop, and raise our kids. That was what I wanted to do. And the Machinists took that from me. They cut me open and made me into someone else.”
Still March said nothing.
“Every time I see that scar on my leg and hip and stomach,” said Adelaide, “I’m reminded of that. That’s the real reason you don’t like anyone to see your scars. It reminds you of too much.”
“I…” March looked at the ceiling, at the wall, and then back at her. “I was an Iron Hand, Adelaide. I had the Final Consciousness inside of my head for years. I did things that make Lorre look like an incompetent child. That’s what I’m reminded of.”
“Jack.” She stepped forward, except her trousers were around her knees, so she stumbled, and March caught her on reflex. He didn’t try to pull away. “That’s all true. But when I see your scars, I’m reminded of something else. The man who saved me, my crew, and my graduate students from the ambush. The man who almost got stabbed to death trying to keep Lorre from getting relics he could use to hurt countless people.” She smiled. “The man who jumped in front of a damned lift car to save my life. That’s what I’ll think about when I see your scars.” She gestured at herself. “And I know what my scar reminds me of, but maybe when you see it, you’ll remember something else.”
“Like what?” said March. The ship seemed to have vanished around him. All he saw was her.
“Maybe it will be a reminder of the first time we did this,” said Adelaide.
She closed the distance between them, and he did not stop her. She kissed him long and hard again, and this time he kissed her back, his arms coiling around her. At last, they broke apart, and March slid her jacket from her shoulders and pulled off her T-shirt. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out her trousers and gazed up at him, eyes shining.
“I,” said March. He had to work some moisture into his throat before he could speak. “I…don’t know what to say right now.”
“Oh, Jack.” Her arms squeezed against his back. “Don’t you think we’ve said enough?”
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